


yeah, you wanna find love, then you know where the city is (revised)

by orphan_account



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexual Maya Hart, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Matchmaker Missy Bradford, Roommates, Slightly irritating Riley, protective lucas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 20:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15590580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	yeah, you wanna find love, then you know where the city is (revised)

**__**_**F** allen Angels _is a shady, sketchy, dimly lit bar hidden in a throng of other bars and shops, behind a couple abandoned buildings. Maya loved it, honestly - it felt like home, with it's screaming music and people wo barely knew each other, people who would dance with each other for a night. And Maya doesn't love it, but it feels like home, like a soft place to land after a bad day, a place where she can hold hands and dance with Missy without people giving her odd looks, or assuming things, a place where she can dance with anyone and no one really cares, because they're too busy doing the same thing.

Today, Maya's sitting in the corner of the bar, and Missy dances with some other girl with purple hair and a nose ring. Because here, she and Missy feel free, and here, there's no one that could possibly judge them for any of it. In a half-drank glass, rests Maya's drink, some maple-colored whiskey from a cheap bottle, no doubt, but at this time of night, every drink tastes the same. 

_We should slow down, I was moving too quick_   
_You don't say you love me, you just bite your lip_   
_I can read the signals from a mile away_   
_I know she is on your mind, and that's okay_

Missy slips in the chair across from her, yawning, her pink fluorescent halter top bobbing through the crowd, smiling and laughing, looking at other people. Purple Hair nods to her, and Missy waves back.

"Seems like you're having fun," she drawls, grinning wildly like only a drunk person can. "Sitting here in your corner all alone."

"I'm having fun," Maya replies defensively. "Staring at ... stuff. In my corner."  
  
Missy laughs. " _Riiight._ Loads. I can see by how excited you look. What you need is another drink in you."  
  
Maya grabs her arm before she can flag down a bartender in her typical Missy-esque way. "No, no, no, no - I think I'm good, and you are too. What you need is a tall glass of water that it'll take you all night to finish."  
  
Missy rolls her eyes. "Oh, you're no  _fun_ , Hart."

"I can live with that," Maya counters, sticking up an accusing finger. "But we are having this argument in the morning. When you're less ... bleh."

"Bleh. Very accurate." Missy looks across the room, eyes widening. "Hey, there's Lucas!  _Hey, Lucas_!"  
 __  
Maya grabs her arm. "No, Missy, that's not-"  
  
It is.

What kind of night would it be if it didn't contain babysitting a drunk, overly happy Missy Bradford and dealing with Lucas? Because if it didn't have either one of those things, it would almost sound peaceful. Almost like  _good luck._ But the Harts weren't casual recipents of good luck. Especially Maya.

Lucas looks over. He looks taller, stronger, tanner. His face is more angular. He isn't smiling, but - he isn't  _not_ , either. " _Maya?_ Is that Missy?"  
  
"Hey, you remember me," Missy slurs. "I remember you too. I'm Bucky McBoing Boing, I'm a rootin'-tootin' cowboy,  _ha-hurr_ ," she leans close to Lucas on the last word, and he recoils, smelling the alcohol on her breath.  
  
"Hey, that's not how the song goes," Maya protests. Lucas has an arm around Missy's shoulders. "Hey, Huckleberry."  
  
"You want to explain what you're doing here at three with  _Missy Bradford?_ "  
  
Maya smiles weakly. "Not really, no."  
  
"Great, I don't want to either. So, which way's your house?"  
  
"That's really not-"  
  
"Maya. I want to know where you're staying. I want to know you're safe. I want to make sure Missy gets to your house."  
  
There's a silence, and they're almost, in her mind, a normal boy and girl, walking home after a date.

"Riley's worried about you."  
  
And the reminder comes, like she knew it would. And everything comes crashing down again.

[\\]

Maya's apartment is messy, in an artistic way. The walls are a color between lilac and lavender, there's an enormous bay window with a seat, and pictures taped to the glass (her and Riley, her and Zay, her and Josh, her and Farkle, Riley and him, but never him and Maya, like there wasn't a triangle, like they'd always known this was the way it was meant to be (obviously not, considering him and Riley had broken up and he hadn't spoken to Maya in a month).

"Just put Missy ... over there," she waved an arm at the patched-up beanbag chair next to the window. The floor was covered in newspaper. In the middle was an easel, with a paint-stained sheet thrown over it. "I think she's woken up in every place in the house by now. Once, she fell asleep on the toilet."  
  
"I didn't know you two were roommates now."  
  
"Oh, we're not," Maya says, airy, collapsing on the couch next to Missy's beanbag. "But she crashes here sometimes. It's Josh's friend's apartment, she's letting me stay here while she's in Europe on her year abroad. I have to pay the rent. But you wouldn't know that."  
  
"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?" he folds his arms and sits across from her. "None of us knew where you went."  
  
"Didn't you, Ranger Rick?" she reaches over to him, and for a second, he thinks she's going to kiss him (he isn't totally opposed to the idea, don't tell Riley), and she pulls a yellow envelope out of his pocket. In messy handwriting, it says  _For Ranger Rick, From Clutterbucket._

"Huh." he squints at her. "I ... never noticed that. I didn't realize you signed off as a Clutterbucket, now."  
  
"Well," she flashes him a smile. "I figured, by nineteen, you'd have fifty Mayas flocking after you, being a hot veterinarian and all, so that's the only way you'd remember me. Besides, I'm trying to embrace my heritage. You know, Ireland. I even have our national soap. I keep it at the very back of the bathroom cabinet."

"Very patriotic of you." he says, grinning. His face is serious, before long, though (she should've been expecting this). "You haven't been returning my calls. Or texts. Anyone's, actually."  
  
"I know," Maya replies, sighing. "I do know that. And I'm sorry. I really am. And ... it's getting late. You should go, I can call you an Uber."  
  
"Maya, can I-" he blurts, before he can regret it. "Could I stay here tonight?"  
  
She winces. " _Why?"  
_

"The moment I come back, everyone will know I've seen you."  
  
"Yeah, you're right, Riley'll probably be able to smell it on you." after a strange look from Lucas, she adds. "It's a best friend thing."

"Then how come Zay and I-"  
  
"You wear too much cologne, Huckleberry, girls can barely breathe around you."  
  
He smiles, teasing. "You sure that's because of the cologne?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, hell no. But I'm just talking about me."

"You'll come around soon enough, Clutterbucket."  
  
"Oh, I hope not." she grins. "But you of all people shouldn't talk like that. You  _are_ dating Riley, remember?"  
  
"I keep forgetting how long you've been gone," he says, his voice soft, looking up to meet her eyes. His eyes are blue. She forgot how quiet his eyes are. Not a waterfall, like a river, reflecting the sky, with long lashes like prison bars. It's no secret why she likes him, there's probably a list of him somewhere. A list of Lucas Friar. What a wonderful idea.  _Jeez, Maya, get yourself together, it's like he has his fingers in your brain or something._ "We broke up."

The thing is, Huckleberry, Lucas,  _Lucas,_ Lucas in her secret New York City apartment, Lucas at the  _Fallen Angels,_ Lucas the goddamn idiot that would show up in the pouring rain with Missy Bradford in his arms and Riley over his shoulder, that's the Lucas she loves. She likes their little games, she likes knowing there's nothing  _little_ about her when they're together, she likes that she couldn't keep a boyfriend in high school because they all said Ranger Rick was making eyes at her in the middle of classes, kissing her forehead (she was  _sure_ this didn't really happen), and mostly because The Ironic Tragedies of Maya Hart wasn't a life a teenage boy was capable of living. Not Josh. No one.  
  
She liked the way she could burn hearts, back in high school. It was wrong, but it was true. She liked wearing bright lipstick and she liked Lucas staring and she liked kissing people like she was trying to yank their heartstrings like a banjo. She liked sneaking alcohol into school dances and sitting on the bleachers by the track to pass the flask between her and Lucas, sometimes Zay, sometimes some other boyfriend she'd had (Lucas would avoid her, if she had one. So she tended not to keep them for very long). She had a soft heart, Maya. No one knew it. She cried over every single boyfriend she'd had. Not because she cared, but because she was supposed to. Riley was just rubbing off on her. She liked kisses goodbye on first dates that were an apology, an apology that she couldn't give anyone else a chance. Chances were just too hard. They hurt too damn much. Lucas hurt too damn much.

"Maya?"  
  
Maya jolts out of her stupor. "Hm?"  
  
"Can I make myself some coffee?"  
  
"Yeah, go ahead."

Lucas in her world,  _this_ world, where she felt most like herself, scared her. 

Yeah, it scared her half to death.

[\\]

Maya's bed wasn't  _small._ That wasn't the problem. The problem is Maya, in cotton shorts and a light blue t-shirt that has a v-neck. She hasn't taken off her lipstick, and it's bright red, but it looks good on her. Like an old-fashioned movie star, like Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn or something. When he tells her that, she laughs, and says there's nothing  _old-fashioned_ about her. Silently, he disagrees. A lot of good things go out of style.

She flops down on her bed and yanks the quilt to her stomach. And still drunk, sleepy, and dizzy, she tells him about New York, the parts he hasn't seen. The boy who painted a mural for her at the side of an abandoned warehouse. A girl who has a poem about her published. She tells him about how she doesn't remember them much but one word, one picture and the entire thing comes flooding back. She tells him she has all their numbers in her phone but she won't text them because she doesn't want to mix them up, she doesn't want to hurt their feelings. What is it about Maya that makes people want to bend over backwards for her?

She pretends they're not two-thirds of a triangle. He pretends he loves her. It's not really pretending, he knows he could. If he wanted to. He doesn't know if he wants to yet.  
  
After a while, in the silence, she whispers. "Lucas? Are you awake?"  
  
And he whispers back. "Yeah."  
  
She leaves a lip print on her pillow. He can see it, even in the dim light. 

She keeps saying his name. She doesn't want to be alone.

"Lucas?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I used to be in love with Riley. I love her. But not like that. Ranger Rick?"  
  
"Yeah." He reaches out for her hand and twines their fingers together. She must be really drunk, since she doesn't pull away. "I used to be in love with Riley, too."

"How was it?"  
  
"It hurt. More than I thought it would."  
  
There's a silence, before she answers, and when she does, he can barely hear her. "Yeah. Me too."

They fall asleep to the sound of each other's breathing. He doesn't know who fell first. Her heartbeat matched with his.

[\\]

He finds Maya in the bathtub, in her bathrobe, the shower curtain pulled shut. She has her arms wrapped around herself and her phone clenched in a fist.  
  
"Maya, what are you - is this an artist thing?"  
  
She snorts, smiling just so. "Yeah. Sitting in bathtubs with clothes on completely dry is an  _artist_ thing. Do you see my easel, Huckleberry? Do you see paintbrushes?"

"Fine, I get it. I just wanted to tell you Missy was awake."  
  
" _Was?"_

"Yeah, I made her a smoothie and she passed out and it was all over her hair and everything."  
  
"Sounds familiar."  
  
"The miracle of life."  
  
She grins wryly at him (her lipstick isn't all over her face, this girl is a miracle, honestly). He wonders if he would've found himself tangled in Maya's limbs, if she'd woken up after him.   
  
Just in a friendly way. Just curious.

"What are you doing in your bathtub, wearing clothes, Maya?"  
  
"Would you prefer me  _not_ wearing clothes?" she replies quickly, and he flushes.

"You knew what I meant."

"Maybe I didn't." Maya gets up and stretches like a cat, yawning. "Help a lady out of her bath, would you, Huckleberry?"  
  
He can feel his heartbeat when he grabs her hand and pulls her out, and she sheds her robe on the ground and walks off without a second thought.   
  
He laughs. He laughs a lot (she looks at him like he's crazy, sees the bathrobe, and seems to get it) and follows her.

[\\]

Maya Hart has paint on her nose. It's really distracting, you know. Lucas sits on the couch with Missy, who eyes him knowingly, and the neon paint on Maya's nose is driving him insane, just like she's driving him insane. And Missy knows it.

Another thing Missy knows (and Maya, for the matter) is that whenever Lucas's phone rings, it's Riley, with some message like  _where r u?_ and  _i miss you_ and  _meet at topanga's?_  He's being cruel, ignoring her, he knows that, but he just doesn't want to pretend his breakup with Riley didn't hurt. He doesn't know if Maya remembers any of last night, but if she does, it means something. That she'll understand. She might.

(she doesn't)

"You  _have_ to call her back," Maya says quietly, when it's just her and Lucas and Missy's in the bathroom singing  _The 1975_ at the top of her lungs (he could agree with her music taste). "She's going to drive herself crazy, Huckleberry."

"She'll be on the first bus here!"  
  
"And that's a  _bad_ thing? Maybe we need Riles here to balance Drunk Missy out." she looks over at Missy who's clutching her head and groaning like she's having a seizure.

"Maya," he grabs her arm, and realizes, how much shorter she is than him. She flinches but doesn't pull away. "A month ago, you just  _disappeared_ , and I don't know why, but this place is  _yours._ I saw the bay window you have here. I don't think it's a good idea to bring Riley here. If you want, visit her - but this is your place. If you wanted Riley here, you would've invited her already."  
  
"Yeah, and it's selfish," Maya throws up her hands. "We're  _best friends._ We used to share  _everything._ "

"You have a life here, Maya. A life Riley wouldn't approve of." 

"I know that." she says quietly, looking up at him. "But that doesn't change anything."  
  
"You want her to come here so she can criticize everything that's yours?"  
  
"No, of course not - but since when did  _you_ become so anti-Riley? Last time I checked, you were still smiling all stupid and going ' _hi_ _',_  ' _howdy', 'hey'."_

"Funny." he says. "But Maya, don't invite her here. I'll take care of it. You'll regret it later."

(she listens, surprisingly)

[\\]

Maya's been painting awhile before she realizes the face is Lucas.

It's not the first time this has happened, but she thought she was over this.

She thought, ever since Riley, ever since her moving, that maybe this was gone.

She was wrong.

[\\]

Lucas is making himself coffee, when there's a scuffling sound from just outside the door. Maya's sleeping on the couch, and Missy is in the bathroom (again).

"Hello?"  
  
The door swings open, to reveal a familiar face.

Josh Matthews.


End file.
